


Pretty Words

by goseaward



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M, One of My Favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-05
Updated: 2006-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Thank you, Simon, for a very nice performance," Inara said.</p><p>Jayne snorted. "Nice? Half o' those wasn't words."</p><p>"It's Shakespeare," Simon said. "From Earth-That-Was. I had to learn it for diction when I was in school." </p><p>"Ain't much use for it out here," Mal said. "Pretty words go with pretty bullet holes in your pretty head."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Words

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: The lovely and amazing Cluegirl, who managed to restore my faith in the thing. :D  
> This fic contains, in order, quotes from Shakespeare (Julius Caesar), Shakespeare (The Merchant of Venice), Eliot (The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock), and Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet). Much thanks to Sam for his help in finding useful quotations.  
> Cardgame name Plums from sbbo, who requested this fic for ixchelmala. Sorry it took so long.

_"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;  
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.  
The evil that men do lives after them;  
The good is oft interred with their bones;  
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus  
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:  
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,  
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.  
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest--  
For Brutus is an honourable man;  
So are they all, all honourable men--  
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.  
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:  
But Brutus says he was ambitious;  
And Brutus is an honourable man.  
He hath brought many captives home to Rome  
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:  
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?  
When that the poor have cried Caesar hath wept:  
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:  
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;  
And Brutus is an honourable man.  
You all did see that on the Lupercal  
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,  
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?  
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;  
And, sure, he is an honourable man.  
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,  
But here I am to speak what I do know.  
You all did love him once, not without cause:  
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?  
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,  
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;  
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,  
And I must pause till it come back to me."_

  
"Well, that was real pretty," Mal said. 

Kaylee still had her mouth open. 

"Thank you, Simon, for a very nice performance," Inara said. 

Jayne snorted. "Nice? Half o' those wasn't words." 

"It's Shakespeare," Simon said. "From Earth-That-Was. I had to learn it for diction when I was in school." 

"For...what?" Jayne said, looking interested. 

"Diction. How you pronounce things." Jayne scowled and went back to doing something obscene to his gun. Simon lowered his chin a little. "I...see you haven't studied it," he said, disdain heavy in his voice. 

"Ain't much use for it out here," Mal said. "Pretty words go with pretty bullet holes in your pretty head." 

"Now, Cap'n, you didn't mind listenin'," Kaylee said. "And we ain't got a thing to do for a whole week." 

Jayne said, "I could tell you some more about--" 

"NO," Simon said. 

"Now, Simon, be nice," Mal said. "Pretty words. Pretty bullet holes." 

Jayne brandished his gun. 

"River!" Simon said, desperate. "What did _you_ think? I know you studied Shakespeare." 

River looked up from where she'd been drawing in mustard on the table. "You missed a comma." 

* * *

"So, you got any other little speeches?" 

"I have several," Simon said. "But I thought you didn't care for pretty words?" 

"There's a place for 'em." 

"I think you'd prefer I concentrated on making sure you didn't bleed to death," Simon said, tying another black stitch over the cut along Mal's talus. 

"I ain't goin' to bleed to death," Mal said. "Why, that ain't even a major body part." 

"We'll discuss that after you've become infected with gangrene and had it removed. Do I want to know how you got this?" 

"Jayne was a mite aggressive, but not as much as his ladder." 

Simon finished the last stitch and walked over to wash his hands. Mal twisted his ankle around, checking the feel, Simon supposed. "I'm surprised you gave him the opportunity," Simon said. 

"A man gets bored." Mal stretched his leg out, all dark hair and hard muscle. 

"So you went to his room and wrestled him across the floor just so you could cut your ankle on his ladder? That's a little, hmm, stupid." 

Mal frowned, warning clear. 

"Sorry," Simon said, not really feeling it. "But if you're just trying to let off some extra energy, there are better ways or better people to do it with." 

Mal stood up, tested the leg, walked around. "Why? You offerin?" 

"I can't wrestle," Simon said. "And anyway, who'd patch me up when you've pounded me into...oh God I'm starting to pick up your speech patterns." 

"Well, look, you're fittin' right in," Mal said. "Who woulda guessed." 

Simon scoffed and started packing his equipment away. 

"By the way, if you're lookin to sound more like us, you'd best not call it wrestlin', or the others might think you don't know how." Mal smiled. "But don't worry. Secret's safe with me." He walked out the door, not even limping. 

Simon blinked at his back. Why shouldn't he call it wrestling? Not even Jayne had mangled that word more than necessary, at least in Simon's hearing. 

He went right on in blissful ignorance until the next long trip, when he saw Mal walking out of Jayne's room in the morning without his shirt on. 

* * *

"Shepherd?" 

"Simon! Come in." Shepherd Book gave that grin that seemed to split his face in two, but his expression quickly decomposed into worry. "You don't often come down this way. Is everything all right?" 

"Yes." He paused. "Mind if I sit?" 

"No, not at all." Book smiled again and shut his Bible . "What can I do for you?" 

Book's voice, Simon reflected, was the perfect voice for a cleric: deep and rich, full of meaning, but calming all the same. Book and Inara gave Simon hope for the grammar of future generations. He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I--it's not religious, you understand." 

"Well, that's a narrow view of religion," Book said. "I think you'll find that most aspects of our lives are influenced by our beliefs. Whether we call it religion, or faith, or morality, our views of right and wrong play an important role." 

"I thought you didn't proselytize?" 

Book folded his hands on his Bible. "There's proselytizing, and there's correcting errors of thought. An educated man such as yourself should understand the difference." 

"All right." Simon focused on the Bible for a minute, then turned his eyes back to the Shepherd's face. Suddenly, he couldn't do it, couldn't ask. "Will you teach me to play Plums?" 

Book laughed his big, deep belly-laugh. "You've got me there, Simon," he said. "Unless you're praying for your cards..." 

Simon smiled back, tentative, and stood up to grab the deck. 

* * *

He was never quite sure how Inara's shuttle managed to look so elegant with so many things inside it. Somehow all the rich fabrics and gold touches blended into a background that made Simon feel absolutely comfortable. He didn't come in much, of course, but when he did... 

"What can I help you with, Simon?" Inara said. Like Book, she often seemed to be laughing when she spoke. Comfortable, Simon thought again. 

"I have an etiquette question," he said. 

"All right," she said, and smiled. "Sit down, I've made tea." 

Simon was acutely aware, from one interesting birthday experience, that a tea ceremony could mean something from a Companion. But Inara just poured him a cup and passed it across without pretense. Simon held his hands around the warm china and said, "How do, er, relationships between crew members usually work on a ship like this?" 

Inara's eyebrows went up. "Relationships? Or sex?" 

"Uh," Simon said. "Just sex. Probably." 

"You ought to find out." She took a sip of tea. "Is it Kaylee? I'm sure she'd--" 

"No, not Kaylee." Simon spun the cup in his hands, slowly, watching the tea swirl. 

Inara set down her own cup. "Simon? You know I don't service crew members." 

"Oh, no, I'm not--" he said hastily. 

"All right. Then one of the men? I'll confess I hadn't realized you preferred male company." 

"I didn't know it myself." He twisted his mouth up, realized he was copying Mal, turned it into a smile. "Is it all right? I mean will it cause tensions among the crew?" 

Inara looked at him seriously. "What you do on your time is your business. As long as you're not breaking up a stable relationship, and don't force knowledge on the other crew members, you should be fine." 

"Are there any stable relationships besides Wash and Zoe?" 

"Well, Jayne and River are--" 

Simon nearly spit out his tea. 

"-- _obviously_ not doing anything. Really, Simon." She smiled. 

Simon just put his head in his hands. This was turning out much more difficult than he'd been expecting. 

* * *

Almost hoping Mal wouldn't hear, Simon knocked. 

Mal said something inside that sounded like "uuuheeehih?" 

Simon decided to take this as permission and opened the door. "Hello, Captain. I thought I'd take a look at your leg." 

"Well, I've survived three weeks without stitches." Mal stepped over to the ladder and craned his head up to see Simon. 

"I'd like to be sure it has healed properly." 

"Mmm," Mal said, but motioned him in. 

Mal's room wasn't any bigger than Simon's--smaller than River's, even. Simon was surprised. Fairly plain, the bed tucked against the wall...shouldn't think about the bed... A clang made him jump and he turned; Mal had shut and locked the door. 

"All right," Simon said, then paused. "If you'll--" 

Mal moved over to the bed. He sat down, stretching out, and pulled up the hem of his trousers. 

"Well, let's take a look then," Simon said. He knelt down and tried to inspect. The dark hair was mostly covering a fine pinkish line running along Mal's ankle and gastrocnemius. "Looks fine." 

"Mmm," Mal said, then, "That all?" 

"Um." Simon swallowed. "It's a little boring, you know, with nothing to do, and I, well, I thought you could perhaps teach me to...wrestle." 

"Did you," Mal said. 

"Yes. I wouldn't want you to injure yourself practicing with Jayne." 

Mal smiled a little, ironically. "That so?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, it ain't too hard." Mal stood up, close. Simon always forgot how tall Mal was; Simon was practically staring up the man's nose. "You just--stand there like this, legs apart, one forward t' keep your balance--" 

Simon complied. He could feel Mal's solid presence, like they were standing closer than they were, or like they were naked. 

"--and then you bring your arms up like this, to try and grab th'other man..."  
Simon brought his arms up, slightly akimbo, and sly as any Companion Mal slipped right between them, gripped Simon's body, and kissed him. Simon hadn't really been expecting it yet--wasn't there more buildup? He remembered more buildup--and it took him a moment to respond, to bring his arms in so they wrapped around Mal's back. 

Mal spun them and pinned Simon to the wall, one knee going right between Simon's own, and the difference in their heights gave Simon the perfect upper thigh to rub against. Mal made a noise in his throat and moved his hands to Simon's hips, holding them in place. He pulled his lips away, moved them to Simon's ear. "You move when I tell you to," he said, and bit Simon's earlobe. 

"Okay," Simon said. 

"Now, what've I told you about proper respect?" Mal dug his fingers in a little more and thrust forward, the hard line of his erection sliding against the side of Simon's stomach. 

Simon tensed his thighs against returning the gesture. "I'm sorry?" 

"I want a good, respectful answer," Mal said, his usual slow drawl sounding odd in a lower register. "You may address me as 'Sir.' Or 'captain.' That'd work too." He pulled back far enough to flash Simon one of his twisty self-satisfied smiles. 

"Er...yes, sir," Simon said. 

"Good. Now get on the bed." Mal stepped back and crossed his arms. 

"Yes, sir," Simon said again. He sat down awkwardly, hands pressed on the thin bright blanket. 

"Clothes off." 

"Yes, sir." Simon removed his shirt, held it, uncertain. 

"Just drop it on the floor," Mal said. He was leaning back slightly now, letting his eyes run hot over Simon's shoulders and upper arms, burning holes in Simon's pectorals. Simon let the shirt go and toed off his shoes and socks, then paused again. "Keep going," Mal said, voice even deeper than before, rough, and it made Simon's spine prickle as he stripped off his trousers. Mal smiled again when he saw what Simon wasn't wearing underneath. 

"Now, I want some more of those pretty words," Mal said. 

"I'm sorry?" 

Mal stepped closer, loomed. "I don't like havin' to repeat myself." 

Simon blinked. Repeat himse...oh, okay. More recitation. He began, " _The quality of mercy is not strain'd,/It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven/Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;_ "  
Slowly, Mal sank to his knees. He met Simon's eyes and held them all the long way down. 

" _It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:/'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes/The throned monarch better than his crown;_ " 

"Lie down," Mal said. 

" _His sceptre shows the force of...of temporal power,_ " Simon said as he tipped himself backward. Mal's bed was slightly harder than his own, but the blanket was softer. " _The attribute to awe and majesty, ...oh... Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;_ " 

Mal's breath was hot and moist on his foot, and then there was the soft almost nebulous touch of a tongue on his instep, over the bone of his ankle, up his calf. 

" _But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is...is..is...It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself;_ " 

"I like that," Mal said against his knee. There was a hot-cooling line of saliva up the inside of Simon's leg. "Keep goin." 

" _And earthly power doth then show likest God's/When mercy seasons justice._ " 

Mal was nipping at the soft flesh of Simon's thigh right below his balls, now, and Simon moved his legs restlessly. Iron fingers clamped his hips. "Do not move," Mal said, "and keep talkin'." 

"Okay..." Simon cast about in his memory. No more Shakespeare coming to mind....oh. Right. " _Let us go then, you and I,/When the evening is spread out against the sky/Like a patient,_ uhhhh.... _etherized upon a table;_ " 

A puff of air, as if Mal were amused by his words. It cooled the damp hairs on his thigh, stirred the hair on his balls, oh did he have to keep speaking? 

" _Let us go, through ss, ss--certain half-deserted streets,_ " 

Finally, Mal moved his mouth towards Simon's cock. Simon chanced a better glance down and there was Mal, looking for all the world as if he'd just found a bag of gold in an Alliance bar on Unification Day. Mal looked back up at Simon, a slight wicked crinkle to his eyes, and said, "Keep goin'." 

" _The muttering retreats/Of ...of restless nights in one-...no... one-night cheap hotels/And ssssssss--_ " 

Mal's mouth was on his cock. Just the end of it, just an inch of perfect pure pleasure. Simon's brain decided that, all physical evidence to the contrary, it was perfectly possible for one's scalp to relocate itself a foot above one's head. But Mal had pulled back. "I stop when you stop." 

"Ssss... _Sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:/Streets that follow like a tedious argument/Of insidious intent..._ " Simon regained clarity of voice in the quest for _more blowjob now now now_. " _To lead you to an overwhelming question..._." Suction. Simon didn't think he'd ever be able to leave this room--he was hot enough to fuse the blanket and Mal would be permamently embedded in his skin, which, at the moment, was fine. " _Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'/Let us go and make our visit._ " 

Mal slipped his lips away again. Simon made a noise he ought to have been embarrassed about. "This one's boring," Mal said. "Don't you got anythin' by that other guy?" 

"Okay," Simon said. He had to have another... 

"Okay, _sir_ ," Mal said, his hands tightening painfully on Simon's hips. 

"Yessir." 

"See? It ain't that hard." Mal moved down again, mouth hovering, open, just beyond reach. Simon's muscles tightened but he didn't let himself move...so all the sensation was concentrated now in his straining cock, the imprints of Mal's fingers along his ilia. 

Well. Only one option left. 

" _Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,/Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner/As Phaëthon would whip you to the west_ ," Simon recited. Mal smiled and ducked his head back down, taking, God, more than half the length into his mouth. One of his hands slipped down from Simon's hip and started rubbing gently behind Simon's balls. Simon wanted to move, but Mal kept an iron grip, so he could watch Mal's eyes burn and feel--oh God his tongue slipping along underneath... " _And bring in cloudy night immediately./Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,/That runaways' eyes may wink and Romeo/Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen._ " 

Mal rubbed in wider circles, sucked harder. 

Simon's mouth went on without him. " _Lovers can see to do their amorous rites--_ "  
Mal made some sort of noise that sent vibrations right up Simon's cock and spine to his head, where it exploded softly behind his eyes. But he didn't move, just let things keep happening to him, cock hard and straining against palate and tongue. 

" _...By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,/It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,/Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,_ " 

Apparently satisfied that Simon wasn't moving, Mal removed his other hand. Simon heard fabric, then some sort of rhythmic...was he jerking himself off? Another wave of pleasure rolled up Simon's body at the thought. 

" _And learn me how to lose a winning match,/Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods._ " 

Mal definitely laughed at that, and Simon couldn't help curling his toes. 

" _Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,/With thy black mantle, till strange love, grown bold,/Think true love acted simple modesty._ " 

Building, now, tight and full in his groin, and Mal seemed to know, moving more quickly. 

" _Come, night, come, Romeo, come, thou day in night;/For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night/Whiter than new snow on a raven's back._ " 

Mal pulled back to take one of Simon's balls into his mouth. Simon trembled, and Mal smiled, watching Simon's face. 

" _Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,/Give me my Romeo;_ " Simon gasped out as Mal returned his wonderful, beautiful, never-going-to-take-orders-from-him-in-the-same-way mouth to Simon's cock and sucked him even further down. 

" _And, when I shall die,/Take him and cut him out in little stars,/And he will make the face of heaven so fine/That all the world will be in love with night/And pay no worship to the garish sun_ ," Simon said as quickly as he could, trying to get to the end before he came. 

Mal did something appropriately criminal with his tongue. 

" _O, I have bought the mansion of a love,/ But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,_ " 

Further down on the bed, Mal shifted his hips, and suddenly Simon saw his dark red cock, slipping easily through his fingers, slight gleam at the tip, even more salacious poking through the flies of Mal's trousers. Shocking and grounding, and Simon could only see Mal's cock in relation to his own, through mouth, through fingers. 

" _Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day_...ah...hmmmh... _O, here comes my nurse_ ," Simon panted. One, two, three, stroked Mal's fingers. " _And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks_ ," that was it, right there, just a little more, that expressive mouth stretched wide around his cock, yes, " _But Romeo's name_ ," there, and his mind whited out in a haze of pure pleasure. 

"...Well?" Mal said. 

Simon blinked slowly. 

"You didn't finish." Mal was climbing, leaning, hard pointy bits of his body knocking against Simon's limp limbs. 

"I think I did," Simon said. It was all over his stomach, after all. 

"Your little speech," Mal said, moving to kneel over him. Mal moved his hand back to his cock, running his fingers along it in one light caress. Mal's stomach muscles twitched with his breathing. 

"Ah. Yes." Simon watched Mal's fingers, up, down, stronger now. "Where was I? _O, here comes my nurse/And she brings news;_ " and Mal was riding his hand, and Simon could only watch, " _and every tongue that--_ " 

Oh, that was quick. Mal's come spurted forward to mix with the white strands already adorning Simon's stomach. 

" _\--speaks/But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence._ " 

Mal smiled at him and collapsed to the bed, turning so he was face-up, head even with Simon's nipple. "I like that one," he said. 

"I don't particularly." 

"It's got the word tongue in it," Mal said. 

Simon dropped his head against the mattress. Much, _much_ more difficult than he'd been expecting, despite the sleepy warm _mmm, orgasm_ messages from most of his body. 

* * *

"Well, Simon could give us some more a that _dic_ tion," Jayne said. 

"I don't really know enough," Simon said. 

Kaylee grinned. "No, Simon, really! So pretty." 

"I, too, enjoy a bit of culture in space--helps put a human perspective on so much emptiness," Shepherd Book said. 

"Well, I wouldn't object to the thing with the tongue," Mal said. 

Inara choked and Jayne glared daggers in Simon's direction as he fondled his firearm. 

Mal continued, "I'm sure Kaylee wouldn't mind loanin' you her dress." He smirked. 

"Now, Cap'n," Kaylee said. "You shouldn't tease Simon that way." 

Jayne aimed his gun at Simon, then pulled it back down and gave the barrel a few more swipes with an oily rag. 

"You're far too old for Juliet anyway," River said. "Can I have some more catsup?" 

Wash handed her the bottle. "Right, because things aren't weird enough without our doctor dressing up like a woman and declaring his love for somebody. Or is that her love?" 

"I am NOT wearing a dress," Simon said. 

"Zoe?" Mal said. 

"I think he'd look real pretty in pink, Captain," Zoe said. 

Which was how Simon ended up on one of the catwalks above the cargo bay, in Kaylee's hastily altered pink ball gown, reciting one of Juliet's monologues. But he met Mal's eyes as the captain leaned lazily against the bulkhead and smirked, and though a lot of things were hard, suddenly pretty words were the easiest thing in the world. 


End file.
